


Why You Should Buy the Cow (Even If the Milk Is Free)

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Barebacking, Biological Sexual Impulses, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Breeding, Cows, Galaxy Garrison, Lactation Kink, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Lactation, Milking, Referenced but not Present mpreg, drink the milk, it's kowgane fresh, ridiculous worldbuilding played straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: Bovids: a subspecies that sprang up from extraterrestrial meddling with humanity’s genes. Modeled after Earth’s cows, a solution to widespread famine due to their ability to produce milk.Many are content to find a home on ranches or with owners, their genetic predisposition towards a need to be spoiled, cared for, and owned meshing well with the entrepreneurs who are willing to stable, milk, and breed them. Not slavery—happy bovids provide milk—but certainly rote and predictable.Shiro doesn’t want that life. Ever since he was a child, he dreamt of flying, of touching the stars. And though he might be the Galaxy Garrison’s first bovid student, he’s already proven to be the best pilot in its history.But instincts aren’t quashed so easily. Though Shiro has no desire to drop out and sign on to a life of dull, if pleasurable, servitude, a bovid still has... needs.He’s not as subtle at hiding it as he thinks, either. His best friend, Keith, might be awkward, but he isn’t blind. Luckily for Shiro, he is practical, so when Keith offers to help him with a few… problems, Shiro figures there shouldn’t really be any issues.But Shiro’s always been one for defying expectations—including his own.





	Why You Should Buy the Cow (Even If the Milk Is Free)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Почему нужно купить корову (даже если молоко бесплатное)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442421) by [commander_lils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commander_lils/pseuds/commander_lils)



> Written for the 2018 Voltron Kink Bang!
> 
> Check out the art by [Sokuter here](https://downthesketchdumpvoid.tumblr.com/post/174095474325/2nd-and-final-post-for-my-participation-in-the) and [Seitou here!](https://seitoushi.tumblr.com/post/174095179466/full-image-under-cut-more-my-contribution)

“You could at least give it a chance.”

Shiro stared determinedly off into the distance, arms crossed, tail twitching, as if to swat away a particularly annoying insect.

Unfortunately, this one didn’t seem particularly inclined to read body language.

“I could, but I won’t,” Shiro said firmly, eyes finally sliding to the cadet bracing an arm on the wall next to Shiro.  The annoyance of having someone so blatantly inconsiderate of his personal space left his eyes narrowing, and he briefly wondered why someone so much shorter and skinnier thought that Shiro would be cowed by their presence.

—Bad choice of words, as well as indicative of the reasoning behind it.

“Hey, c’mon now,” the cadet drawled, stepping closer, smirking.  “You don’t really wanna be here. It’s so much  _ work. _  My family’s loaded; we can pay to keep you comfortable, easy.”

Anger ripped through Shiro at the unapologetic arrogance, and he had to steady himself with a few deep breaths.  To assume that sort of thing about someone—about a  _ stranger _ —

“I told you,” Shiro said through gritted teeth, “I’m not interested.   _ Especially _ not in you, since you don’t seem to realize that people like me all want the same thing.”

“Well, don’t you?”  The cadet’s irreverent tone left Shiro boiling.  “You’re gorgeous. You know you can find someone to take care of you.”

The cadet’s hand reached out, and, before Shiro could pull away, cupped his cheek.

For a moment—the briefest of moments, he thought, he  _ hoped _ —the contact sparked through him, and Shiro closed his eyes.

It had been so long since someone had touched him, and god, he missed it.  Even when it was someone as abhorrent and repulsive as this—

But then he came to his senses.  Absolutely not. Eyes snapping open, he reached up to grab the wrist, twisting away and using the momentum to shove the cadet away from him.  Not hard enough to fall, but hard enough to be unpleasant.

“I said  _ no _ ,” Shiro gritted out, straightening, using every inch of his tall form to intimidate.  As his eyes narrowed, he could see nervousness beginning to creep into the cadet’s face.  “And unless you want the answer to be more physical, you’ll leave. Now.”

Apparently, Shiro didn’t need to offer any encouragement.  The cadet turned and fled.

Exhaling, coming down from his anger, Shiro glanced furtively to the side, hoping that no one had witnessed the conversation—

Only to be met with the sight of Keith Kogane, his best friend, watching him with wide eyes and one fist raised.

As Shiro’s eyes locked onto the fist, Keith followed his gaze, seemed to realize that Shiro probably would not have approved of him inserting himself into the conversation with a punch thrown in the cadet’s direction, and hastily lowered it.

“Shiro.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

There was more bitterness in Shiro’s voice than he intended, and he winced, then turned to face Keith with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to—I know you’re only trying to help.”

Keith nodded, expression solemn, watching Shiro.  Though he said nothing, Shiro could feel the expectation of an explanation humming between them.  Probably in his head—Keith never asked, only quietly accepted. But Shiro wanted to explain himself for once.

With a loud sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair.  His second set of ears twitched, apparently still expecting… something.

“I just want to fly,” he finally burst out, turning to look at Keith, who had paused and stepped off to the side to allow Shiro the opportunity to vent in private.  “I don’t want any of this… this  _ nonsense _ that comes with being…”

His hands lifted to gesture at his ears and  small horns. He couldn’t explain the need to prove himself to Keith, to those big, round, purple eyes, always so serious—

“It’s okay,” Keith said, voice firm and quiet.  “It isn’t your fault. Just because you’re born a certain way…”  He shook his head. “That doesn’t mean you owe anyone anything.”

Shiro’s fingers ran through his hair again.  Keith’s words helped, but…

“It’s not just that,” he admitted, swallowing.  Keith’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Then what is it?”

Shiro glanced around, then jerked his head back down the hallway.  Keith followed, expression still solemn. They finally made it to Shiro’s room, where Shiro sank down onto the couch beside him.

“I… I don’t know how much you know about bovids,” Shiro began, slowly and reluctantly.  “Beyond the whole ‘milk’ thing.”

Keith shook his head.  “I know what people say, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

Of course he had heard things.  Shiro simply sighed.

“We… there’s this biological impulse we have.  You know why we were created, right? And how?”

Keith nodded; schools usually covered the basics.  Earth’s “first contact” had been during a period of time called the Great Famine: upon seeing humans dying of starvation, the Idila had drawn from humanity’s primary food source—cattle—and genetically spliced them with humans.  In the end, they had developed a new subspecies who could produce highly nutritious milk, even without needing sufficient nutritious intake themselves. A bovid could eat a constant diet of milkshakes and French fries and, as long as they were kept happy and content and milked regularly, continue to produce plenty of nutritiously balanced milk for consumption.

Horribly unethical, of course, historians had near-unanimously agreed, but Earth hadn’t exactly had the ability to  _ stop _ them.

Shiro personally thought that humanity couldn’t come up with more realistic science fiction if it tried.  But then again, who was he to judge reality?

“When we were spliced with cows, we got more than the physical.  There are… instincts, too, I guess. I know I’m the only bovid in the Garrison.  The first. And that’s because a lot of us just want to be…” Shiro winced, trying to think of how to explain it without sounding demanding or spoiled.  “Pampered. Owned, even, sometimes. To have someone have their hands on you, to tell you they’re going to take care of you, treat you right…”

Shiro had to trail off as the need rocked through him, sharper than it usually was.  It didn’t help that he hadn’t been touched in what felt like  _ ages. _

“But if I had that,” he continued, voice soft, “I couldn’t have what I wanted now.  No one wants a bovid who doesn’t want commitment. Who’s going to leave them for space.  Who has ambitions and dreams and strange interests. It’s not even that uncommon of a thing—I’ve read so much about and by people like me.  Who have gone beyond tradition to do such great things. And that’s great for them! And it’s great for people who don’t want that, either, who are happy where they are, who are doing so much good.  I just happen to be the first one who wants to go into space. And that’s… hard.”

Keith nodded, expression still solemn.  “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Shiro’s lips twitched into a faint smile.  “Thank you. I… I hope so. And I think I can, too, or I wouldn’t even be trying.  But it’s also difficult to have those instincts working against you. Making you wonder if maybe you  _ should _ take that jerk up on his offer to… well, you can use your imagination.  Not that I ever would, but… I mean, probably, but…”

“Why does it have to work against you?” Keith asked, sounding as matter-of-fact as always.  “What if you found someone who helped, who you could have that sort of contact with, who you could trust not to take advantage of you?”

Shiro opened his mouth, ready to protest that he couldn’t think of anyone he could trust like that, not besides—

Keith.

Their eyes met, and it clicked, what he had meant.

“I mean,” Keith continued, still hesitant, “if you do.  Trust me that much, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t—I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’m not expecting—but if you want…”

Keith had started to stammer, something that Shiro found more unbearably adorable than he should.  And as Shiro thought…

As best friends, of course they had wound up touching at times: occasional pats on shoulders, the squeeze of an arm, even the rare hug that Shiro treasured.  He had never tried to push for more, doing his best to remain content with what he was given, knowing that full-blooded humans often didn’t feel the same way that Bovids did about physical contact.  Still, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about having something with Keith that was more frequent. More permanent. More… intimate.

“Shiro?”

Though Shiro knew that the slight crack in Keith’s voice was only one of uncertainty, it broke Shiro’s heart the same way that it always did.  When he came back to the present, he realized that he was staring—and blushing.

“I mean it,” Keith continued, and he was sounding more and more nervous by the moment.  “I won’t be upset if you tell me no—I just want to help.”

Shiro didn’t know how to begin expressing the gratitude that rushed through him, didn’t even know how to describe whatever else was there.  Instead, doing his best to be careful, he reached out to wrap an arm around Keith’s waist, then yanked him over, tugging them both onto the bed.  Ignoring Keith’s shocked gasp, not waiting for permission, he buried his face in Keith’s chest.

“Okay,” he murmured, voice muffled from the fabric of Keith’s uniform.

An arm, smaller than Shiro’s and much more hesitant, curled around Shiro’s back.

“Okay?” Keith asked quietly, as if unable to believe Shiro had agreed.

“Okay,” Shiro repeated, firmer this time.  He could feel his lips beginning to curve up into a grin.  “I’d love that.”

“Oh,” came the shocked response, and Shiro could only laugh as he pressed closer.

He closed his eyes, inhaling, and the scent of Keith filled his nose.  The faint hint of laundry detergent, the generic soap and shampoo Keith had used to shower this morning, and something else underneath, the unique smell of Keith that he knew so well.  It sent a thrill dancing through him, settling in his abdomen, and he stayed quiet for several moments, basking in the sensation of human contact.

“You can hold me tighter, you know,” Shiro said, still muffled.  “I’d… I’d like it if you did, actually.”

“Oh— _ oh _ ,” Keith gasped.  “Sorry, I…”

“It’s okay.”  Shiro snuggled closer as Keith’s other arm wrapped around him, then tightened.  After a few more moments of hesitation, he seemed to grow bolder, running a hand down Shiro’s back, his other around Shiro’s shoulders.

“So this is good, then?” Keith asked, clearly hesitant.  “I just… I want to make sure that I’m not—”

Shiro’s heart twisted, and he let out a soft groan, pulling away for a moment before leaning in to press his forehead against Keith’s.  Keith froze at that, eyes wide, and it took a moment to realize that he had stopped breathing. The obvious concern for Shiro’s space, for his consent, left Shiro just a little breathless as well.

“It’s perfect,” Shiro breathed, leaning in to nuzzle against Keith’s cheek, then his neck.  “I’ll stop if you need me to, but god, Keith…”

Keith’s arms tightened, and Shiro groaned; though the pleasure wasn’t exactly sexual in nature, it was a distinct craving that, until now, had gone years without being properly met.  Shiro inhaled the scent of Keith again, in absolute heaven.

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering with pleasure, leaning forward to twine around Keith.  Keith took this in turn, hands sliding back around Shiro’s waist, then roaming to run comfortingly over every bit he could reach: his back, his thighs, his neck, his sides.  Though there was a definite intimacy to the actions, Keith noticeably made an effort to keep from allowing this to become sexual.

It was something that, Shiro realized to his faint surprise, left a twinge of disappointment in his chest.

For a moment, Shiro imagined Keith actually going that far: gripping his wrists, pressing him down into the bed, sinking his teeth into Shiro’s neck and grinding forward between Shiro’s thighs.  “ _ Mine _ ,” the imaginary Keith panted into Shiro’s ear, one hand moving to Shiro’s throat and the other to tear at his clothing—

“Is this okay?”

The uncertainty in Keith’s voice had come, Shiro realized, from the tension in Shiro’s shoulders.  Keith must think it was  _ him. _

Well, it was.  But that was Shiro’s fault.

“Yeah,” Shiro breathed, doing his best to relax.  He didn’t want to ruin this, not when he had just managed to get what he needed.  “It’s wonderful.”

—

Keith couldn’t decide if he was a terrible person.

The temptation of Shiro had always been there, of course.  How could it not be? Shiro was absolutely gorgeous in his own right: with a handsome face, a wonderful smile, beautiful gray eyes, arms with biceps almost the size of Keith’s head, rock-hard thighs  _ definitely _ bigger than it…

Really, Keith could make the list go on forever.  So Keith had spent a lot of time checking out his best friend.  Sue him.

And Keith really did value their friendship above all else.  But Shiro’s great personality wasn’t exactly helping things, either.

Neither were the Bovid features.  Keith had always low-key found the entire thing vaguely kinky—apparently, he was supposed to, a failsafe to ensure the continuation of the species—but having all of that wrapped up in the package of one Shirogane Takashi?

A weapon perfectly engineered to destroy Keith’s poor brain.

After all, who could deny the pull of someone as strong and muscular and, well,  _ beefy _ (Keith harbored immense guilt over the pun, but couldn’t manage to think of it any other way) as Shiro staring up at you with adoration, like you were his entire world?  Who could resist the little horns that poked out from behind that dashing forelock, the second set of ears that flopped adorably when he turned his head quickly?

And Shiro’s chest…

Keith couldn’t deny that it left his mouth watering, at both the sight of it as it was and what he knew it could do.  Not that he would ever try anything without Shiro’s consent, but it had been a distinct feature of plenty of Keith’s late-night fantasies.

Still, he knew that Shiro didn’t want that, didn’t want someone who only saw him as a commodity, or a pet, or someone (some _ thing _ ) to fuck and breed and use to warm their bed.

But Keith didn’t want that, either.  He didn’t want to keep Shiro, cage him; he wanted to see Shiro get to the stars.  So he hoped that he wasn’t becoming—or that he secretly was—the kind of person Keith wanted nothing to do with.

Was this a crush?  It was annoying as shit.

But he was going to do his best to give Shiro what he needed, either way.  Shiro had mentioned communities of Bovids who lived like him, and Keith’s research had led him to some of those groups.  Right now, he had landed on a treasure trove: a subreddit for independent Bovids and their partners alike.

(“Partners,” Keith had thought with a shiver.  It was an enticing word.)

Some of these suggestions, though…  He could feel his face reddening at the thought.  This arrangement was between  _ friends _ , he told himself.  Sex wasn’t on the table.

(Despite himself, he paid attention to the list of signs that it might be, and that Shiro might be too self-conscious to ask.  “Always get explicit consent” seemed to be the only had and fast rule of thumb, but beyond that, anything could be fair game.)

He clicked on another thread, unable to keep from flushing a little more at the subject matter.

But he could power through this.  For Shiro.

—

Shiro hadn’t realized how much of a difference having someone like Keith would make.

Every moment spent with Keith devolved into one of bliss: Keith was gentle and attentive, running fingers through Shiro’s hair, teasing gently at the small horns, rubbing at the sensitive set of ears.  It had actually become a slight problem: in their two shared classes, he deliberately had to now sit on the opposite side of the room to avoid distraction, and if he wasn’t careful, their private study sessions, started months and months ago, would become cuddle sessions and both of their grades would drop.

Truthfully, Shiro had never had anything even remotely close to this, and it was far too easy to understand how Bovids might give in to this sort of life.  It was as different from reluctant, automatic reactions to harassment as night from day, and Shiro found himself aching for more.

But Keith was only doing this as a friend, he continued to remind himself.  Shiro could never ask for more from him.

“What—oh, thanks.”  A faint flush spread over Keith’s cheeks as Shiro sank onto the couch next to him, a mug of coffee extended towards him.  As an upperclassman, Shiro was allowed one of the apartment-style dorms, which included a kitchen—and coffeemaker.

“Of course.”  Shiro beamed over at him: though he knew that part of the fizz of warm pleasure under his own cheeks was due to his instincts, was due to having someone to look after and make happy, the way that Keith always seemed to be surprised that someone would  _ want _ to look after him had its own unique appeal.

Keith was always beautiful, but the blush made him even more lovely.

“Hazelnut creamer, just the way you like.”

Keith ducked his head to accept it, and Shiro prepared himself for the protestations that he hadn’t had to, that Keith was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

But this time, Keith said nothing, only offering Shiro a faint smile and turning back to the tablet on his lap.  He did extend one arm, which Shiro leaned into immediately, but still no peep of protest.

Shiro had to wonder what had changed, that Keith was no longer insisting that Shiro didn’t have to do these sorts of things for him.  Maybe Shiro had just worn him down.

“How were your classes today?” Shiro hummed.  “Do you think you did well on Montgomery’s test?”

Keith made a face.  “I mean, probably. I still don’t get why I have to learn all of that irrelevant stuff if I’m gonna be a  _ pilot _ , but…”

“We’ve been over this,” Shiro chided gently.  “You need to know what your crew is doing so you can know how your own flying affects them, and in emergencies, you might even need to help.”

“But I’m no  _ good _ at it,” Keith protested, a little pout on his lips.  “Not like I am with flying.”

Shiro let out a bark of laughter, laying down and settling across Keith’s lap.  Keith let out a grunt of what was probably supposed to be annoyance, but didn’t have enough sincerity in it to convince Shiro.  He just rested the tablet on Shiro’s shoulder and continued to read.

“Keith, you’re a genius when it comes to flying.  You can’t be a genius at  _ everything. _  But you can be good—I’ve seen your scores.  You  _ are _ good.  You’re just not a prodigy.”  He reached out to poke at Keith’s stomach, drawing out an indignant squawk.  “Time to learn how to deal with being normal like the rest of us.”

Keith grunted in protest, giving Shiro’s head a playful little shove.  “Hey, you’re not  _ normal. _  Don’t say that.”

Shiro just sighed, pressing closer into him.  “Don’t change the subject.”

Keith groaned, burying the fingers of his free hand into Shiro’s hair, drawing a happy noise from his lips.  “Fine. I passed. I think. Thanks to you.”

Though Shiro had found himself more distracted than he would have liked during their late-night study sessions, apparently Keith had picked up enough.  Shiro beamed, butting his head forward gently into Keith’s stomach. “I’m proud of you.”

“Am I okay to stay the night?” Keith murmured, running a hand down Shiro’s back.  “No early classes tomorrow. We can sleep in.”

Shiro hummed with pleasure at the thought.  An image of a lazy morning, maybe using the kitchen to make Keith breakfast and surprising him in bed…

He knew that it was a disgustingly domestic fantasy and probably not one that anyone indulged in over someone who was “just a friend,” but he could allow himself to—

Keith’s arms had found their way around Shiro’s waist, pulling him close, and a dull ache blossomed in Shiro’s chest.

For a moment, Shiro thought that it was only figurative, a wistful longing for something he knew that he couldn’t have.  But he quickly realized that the sensation was distinctly more physical than that, and concentrated in a specific spot. Two spots, in fact.

Oh, no.

“Shiro?” Keith asked, hesitation audible in his voice, and Shiro realized that he had tensed.

He took a few moments to force himself to relax.  No need to alarm Keith.

“Oh,” Shiro said, keeping his tone light.  “It sounds nice, but… probably not tonight.  I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.”  Shiro didn’t miss the disappointment in Keith’s voice, but Keith didn’t pry—he never did.  Shiro knew why, and it killed him to deny Keith anything, especially knowing that Keith expected nothing.  “Okay. Do you want me to leave?”

Shiro hesitated, hating the idea of turning Keith down, but he had to handle his situation.

“No,” he said truthfully, “but you probably should anyway.  I need to get some sleep.”

He nearly offered to have Keith stay the night tomorrow, but he didn’t think his problem would be solved by then, either.

“Okay.”  Keith sounded about as pleased with the prospect as Shiro felt, and they sat in silence for a few moments.

“Hey, Shiro?”

Shiro’s ears flicked lazily.  “Mmm?”

“I need you to move before I can get up.”

—

After Keith left, Shiro shut himself in the bathroom, locked the door, and shoved his shirt up.

The mirror confirmed his worst fears: his chest, already large from keeping up with his physique, had grown—had  _ swollen. _  His nipples had suffered the same fate, and god, the entire mess ached, begging for relief.

Shiro hadn’t had to deal with this since puberty, thank god, but he remembered it well.  He probably should have seen it coming, he thought wryly.

The Idila, in all their infinite wisdom, had at least foreseen that an entire species that could produce nourishment on demand could easily be taken advantage of, imprisoned by the dozens—hundreds—and forced to provide sustenance for the masses, the same way actual cattle were kept but with enough sapience to protest imprisonment.  Add that to the fact that any Bovid was capable of reproduction—both with another Bovid and across multiple species—and they had taken what they had considered failsafes against that sort of thing happening.

So Bovids could lactate, yes, but only when happy.  When they found themselves in a situation that kept them satisfied and content.  Shiro, faced with the pressure of proving himself, the regular stress of Garrison coursework, wasn’t  _ unhappy _ , per se, but intellectual stimulation, thrilling as it might be, was not the same as being content.

Unfortunately, it appeared that Keith’s presence in his life was.

With a small whimper, Shiro prodded at the swell of his chest.  Tiny pearls of white collected around his nipple, a tantalizingly small promise of relief.

He could do this himself.  It wasn’t exactly how he wanted it, but he hadn’t exactly had much of a choice as a teenager, when spontaneous hormones meant that sometimes your body decided to do whatever the hell it wanted—forget what some alien race’s genetic manipulations might say.  He could probably even find someone else to do it for him, though the harassment that might invite wasn’t an especially appealing option either.

And either way, it wouldn’t be Keith.

He flitted dangerously close to the thought of asking, just for a moment.  The thought of Keith’s hands, small but strong (maybe he’d keep the gloves on), kneading his chest, offering blessed relief as the milk spilled out of his chest.  In his mental image, Keith cupped one pec, lifting it, placing his lips over the nipple—

With a gasp, he slammed down on the fantasy.  While close friends could, at times, help a Bovid milk themselves, actually  _ drinking _ it, straight from Shiro’s chest, would be…

Blood rushed not only to Shiro’s cheeks, but to southern parts as well.

Either way, he couldn’t ask this of Keith.  He already did so much for Shiro, and imposing like this was not an option.

In truth, the concern of what Keith might think was a significant obstacle as well.  He knew that Keith had stepped out of his comfort zone to do this for Shiro, and while he was forever grateful, he had to remind himself of that every day to keep from taking advantage.

And while Shiro wasn’t ashamed of who he was, or what his body did, milking was an undeniably intimate act.  The idea that Keith might find the idea repulsive, that it might even change the way he thought of Shiro, was a cold fear in his chest, true.  But Keith getting the wrong idea concerned Shiro as well.

Or, Shiro thought miserably, finally dropping his shirt back down to cover the offending chest, the right idea.  Because Shiro couldn’t deny what he wanted any longer.

He staggered over to his bed, quickly stripping down to his underwear and flicking off the light.  As he sank back onto the mattress, closing his eyes, he allowed himself to imagine.

He  _ wanted _ Keith to lick down his chest, to latch onto a nipple and suck him dry.  He wanted Keith to pin Shiro to the bed, to croon into Shiro’s ear that he was  _ going to make Shiro his mate _ , to spread Shiro’s legs and plunge deep inside him, fucking him roughly (or slowly, or tenderly) until Shiro couldn’t remember his own name.

He wanted Keith to fuck him full, to feel Keith’s come inside him, to be bred properly, to know that his stomach would swell full of Keith’s—

Shiro groaned, screwing his eyes shut tighter, lifting a knuckle and biting it, the pain dragging him back, just slightly, to his senses.  He didn’t  _ want _ children; not yet, anyway.  Maybe a family, someday, but he wanted to go into space, not stay at home and raise babies.  Even if they were Keith’s.

Shiro might not want children, but his body sure as  _ hell _ wanted to be pregnant.

Reluctantly, he gave in, thrusting a hand down his pants and gripping his cock.  Keith never needed to know.

An hour later, however, he gave up.  No matter how much he stroked, how filthy his fantasies became, the ache in his chest continued to demand his attention at the most inopportune moments.  There would be no orgasm tonight.

He would hide this from Keith.  The milk might be uncomfortable, yes, but long enough of this would make Shiro miserable.  And miserable Bovids didn’t produce milk. An expedient solution to his problem.

He hoped.

—

Keith didn’t know why Shiro thought he was being subtle.

It had hurt, a little, the first night Shiro had sent him home.  Keith had grown more used to sleeping next to someone than he had realized, a far cry from the occasional instances of impersonal sex in which he had partaken when he was particularly craving human contact, before this… whatever it was with Shiro had started.

Still, Keith had understood, and so hadn’t pushed the issue.

It was after the second time that Keith began to worry.  Shiro hadn’t met his eyes, a faint flush on his cheeks, and he looked almost… peaked.  Ill? Not like he was enjoying himself, for sure.

Had Keith done something to make him uncomfortable?  It certainly seemed that way, or at least that something was wrong.  After Shiro had politely declined his company and bid him goodnight, Keith returned to his room and Reddit.  Unfortunately, he found no answers there or anywhere else on the internet: the most relevant advice Keith could find was all along the lines of “Bovids are like people; they’re not a monolith.  Talk to him like a person and find out what’s wrong.” This was, of course, something Keith could absolutely not do.

Keith then went on to Google the same issues for “friend” instead of “Bovid,” then, in a final, red-faced attempt more out of desperation than anything else, “boyfriend.”

All yielded similar strains of advice.  Keith couldn’t believe the internet was useless.

He did, however, try to keep an eye on Shiro, just like any best friend would do.  He didn’t consider himself a particularly attentive person, but he could do his best for Shiro.  Ask about the day, let him vent his frustrations with the latest class he was taking or TAing. Stop arguing when Shiro tried to bring him things.  The latter was, Keith had learned, a strong Bovid instinct for some reason. Allowing Shiro to indulge, despite Keith’s concerns about taking advantage, apparently did Shiro a lot of good.  A little like scratching an itch.

And Shiro clearly seemed to notice—but that was the odd part.  It both seemed to elate and frustrate him simultaneously, gratitude on his face but frantic desperation masked in his eyes.  And still, when pressed for answers, Shiro insisted nothing was wrong.

The fifth night after the one Shiro had turned him down, Keith began to put it all together.

Shiro had stood to retrieve something—to snack on, maybe, or to drink—but hadn’t quite disentangled himself from Keith before making his way to the kitchen.  Their legs caught, and Shiro staggered, nearly faceplanting onto the floor.

“Hey, watch out—”

Keith reached out to steady Shiro instinctively, hand on his chest.  But instead of the firm muscle he had grown used to, the pectoral seemed… softer.  Almost squishy?

Keith paused for a moment in an attempt to readjust, but Shiro immediately tensed, gasping and drawing back.  Keith snatched his hand back, eyes wide, terrified for a moment that he had hurt Shiro. But Shiro didn’t seem to be in pain, only uncomfortable.

“Shiro?” Keith asked slowly, watching him intently, ready to apologize profusely if he had done something wrong.

But Shiro only wrapped his arms around himself.  “Sorry. I’m tired. I should sleep.”

Keith knew a dismissal when he heard one.  But this time, he was too distracted to be upset.

A thought had wormed its way into the back of his mind, and he found himself latching onto it.

This… Keith needed to think about this.

He wasn’t even too upset as he bid Shiro goodnight.

—

Shiro couldn’t deny that he low-key expected Keith to say that he’d had enough at any moment.  That Shiro was acting strange, that he was tired of his hot and cold and being sent away and that this was over.  He didn’t miss that Keith’s distress, subtle but present, seemed to be deepening as Shiro continued his mission to stay distant.

He knew that he needed to do something.  He just hadn’t figured out what, yet.

This evening, at least, Keith seemed to be doing much better.  The near-constant tension in his shoulders had relaxed, and the usual intensity of his expression had lessened.

That was something, at least.  Shiro wished he was faring better.

He settled in, and Keith took his spot next to Shiro.  As if nothing was wrong, Shiro leaned into him, and Keith’s arms slid around his waist.

“Good day?” Keith murmured, and Shiro found himself taking Keith’s cue, relaxing as well.  Keith didn’t seem to be concerned, so why should Shiro be?

“Yeah,” he murmured, pulling up his tablet and flicking to the study guide Iverson had uploaded online.  “You know, I think I’m doing pretty good.”

That should concern him more: after all, it certainly wouldn’t help with his problem.  But lying here with Keith, pressed close together, catching brief whiffs of his scent and knowing it was just the two of them…

Maybe he would ask Keith to stay tonight.

True. his problem hadn’t gotten any better, and his chest had ached for days, but… some aches went deeper than the physical, and needed to be tended to worse than others.

He went dutifully through the study guide, relieved to see it covered material he had reviewed already.  Still, he wanted to be sure to be prepared.

Most of the way through, a pair of hands on his waist and a small voice pulled him out of his concentration.

“Shiro?”

His head jerked slightly, and he turned.  “Hmm?”

Keith didn’t answer at first, instead pulling Shiro closer.  Shiro allowed it, setting back into Keith’s chest as Keith’s chin settled on Shiro’s shoulder.

And then Keith’s fingers dipped under Shiro’s shirt, touching the skin of his waist.  For a moment, Shiro thought it had been an accident, but they continued to slide up his stomach with a firm deliberation.

Shiro froze, hardly daring to breathe.  “Keith?” he ventured.

They were pressed so close together that Shiro could feel Keith swallow, picking up on the slight nervousness behind him.

Keith’s fingers stopped right below Shiro’s pectorals, and there was no way he couldn’t feel how swollen they were.

“So,” Keith began, and though he had clearly made an attempt to keep his voice steady, Shiro could hear the subtle anxiety that Keith had learned to hide—but not from everyone.  “I noticed you had a problem.”

The words sent a lance of emotions through Shiro, a confusing mixture that he couldn’t quite identify.  A little bit of hope, a bit of dread; mortification, denial, uncertainty—

Keith’s hands finally lifted to cup Shiro’s pecs, and Shiro couldn’t help but let out a long, low groan.

“I can help you with it, if you want.”

Shiro’s mind raced frantically: he hadn’t want to force Keith into this position, but  _ god _ , he ached—between his legs, in his chest, and he  _ wanted _ —

A slight movement from behind him, and then a strange sensation on one of his cow’s ears.  Was that—

The slightest twinge of pain rippled through him as Keith’s teeth sank deliberately into his ear.

Shiro could feel his eyes roll back into his head in slow motion as the pleasure rocked through him alongside the pain, ten times as strong and leaving him breathless.  Keith.  _ Keith. _  Keith wanted to do this, Keith was touching him like this, Keith had his hands all over Shiro in the same way that Shiro had been fantasizing for months.

_ Yes _ , he wanted to cry, to beg, to plead, but his lips wouldn’t move the way he needed them to, and all he could do was whine and squirm, praying that Keith would somehow realize what to do.

Keith’s fingers, already on Shiro’s chest, pressed for a moment, eliciting an awful twinge of pleasurepain.  Even in his distracted state, he could tell how tight and tender they must feel. Then, after a moment, they latched onto Shiro’s nipples, squeezing.

Shiro yelped at that, grinding backward instinctively, and with that came a vague bit of knowledge— _ Keith is half-hard. _  But there were more important things right now.  He pressed back, insistently, and finally managed to get a single word out.

“ _ Please. _ ”

Hot breath ghosted over the back of Shiro’s neck, more uneven than he’d been expecting, and then blessed relief rushed through him, a sensation he’d been longing for for an unimaginable amount of time.  And all Shiro could do was sag, whining softly, wordlessly begging for more.

“Honestly,” Keith laughed raggedly.  “You didn’t think you were being subtle, did you, Shiro?”  The fingers pinched a nipple again, this time harder, almost punishing.  Shiro yelped at the pain, wishing for more. “I’ve only been seeing these stand out under your shirt for like a week, now.”

Keith’s hand released it, though, and Shiro couldn’t manage the words to protest.

“But don’t worry,” he murmured, and out of the corner of his eye, Shiro spotted that Keith had picked up the empty cup that had been on the side table.  “I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

With one hand, Keith held the glass underneath Shiro’s chest; with the other, he began to squeeze.

The relief as the milk squirted out of his nipple rushed through him, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and his head fell back onto Keith’s shoulder.  A desperate moan escaped his lips, and he distantly wondered what the rest of the campus would think if they saw Shirogane Takashi, the golden boy of the Garrison, coming to pieces like this.

The thought left him hot and desperate.

Keith continued his motions, pressing deftly against Shiro’s chest, fumbling at times but quickly catching the hang of it, drawing both milk and little noises of bliss from Shiro.  The realization of exactly how deft Keith could be with his fingers sent Shiro’s thoughts spiraling to filthy, obscene, delicious places. And the relief rippling through Shiro as the milk spilled out of him drove him even higher, wiping away everything else from existence but himself and Keith.

The hands kneaded at Shiro’s pecs, almost greedily, and he arched forward into the sensation, continuing to moan.  He briefly considered reaching down to press his hand against his crotch, trying for release in yet another way, but like the prospect of having to milk himself, the thought of pleasuring himself without Keith left an empty ache in the pit of his chest.

“Keith,” he whined softly, pressing back into him, needy and desperate, as Keith continued to alternate his milking between each pec.  “Oh god, Keith, I…”

_ I what? _ Shiro thought dazedly.   _ I want you?  I need you? I— _

Keith’s hands withdrew from Shiro’s chest, and he let out a desperate cry.  “No, don’t—”

But too late.  Keith was already shifting, pulling away, and Shiro reluctantly pushed himself up to allow Keith to slide out from underneath him.  He steeled himself against the disappointment, the concern that Keith was having second thoughts or regrets. If he was, Shiro told himself, he would deal with it.  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to turn as Keith stood behind him.

(Although, he would be lying if he said he didn’t strain his ears to listen for the sound of Keith leaving the room.)

A hand rested on the back of Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro inhaled sharply, turning to look hesitantly up at Keith.

When he did, the intensity of the hunger in those dark purple eyes snatched the breath right from his lungs.

“Keith?” Shiro managed, reaching down to steady himself on the edge of the couch.  Keith didn’t seem to hear Shiro for a moment, then shook himself, expression clearing as he reached out and planted a hand in the middle of Shiro’s chest, pushing him back down.

“Stay,” he rasped, and a thrill shot all the way from Shiro’s chest to the tips of his toes, which curled in anticipation at the prospect of obeying.  He laid back down, watching Keith eagerly.

Keith exhaled, reaching down to put his hands on Shiro’s thighs.  Shiro let out a soft whine as Keith’s gaze inched slowly upwards, clearly savoring the sight.  His eyes lingered significantly on the obvious erection underneath his pants, expression a clear one of,  _ I’ll take care of that later. _  They raked up his bare abdomen.  They finally flicked over Shiro’s face, something unreadable in Keith’s expression.

Keith exhaled, then levered himself onto Shiro, settling onto those thighs and not moving his gaze.

Shiro stared up at Keith, eyes wide, a buzzing in his head as he felt everything, from his cheeks to his toes, flush warm.  He knew what a sight he must make on his back: shirt rucked up, hair mussed, ears flicking, chest swollen with—

Keith’s hand, softer than Shiro had been expecting, cupped one of Shiro’s pectorals, squeezing gently.  The ache rocked through Shiro, promising relief but not yet delivering, and he couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped his lips.  He didn’t know what hurt more: the ache in his chest or the desperation between his legs.

“Please,” he choked out, eyes flicking from Keith’s hand back up to his eyes.  Keith wore a raw expression, a mixture of need and wonder, and he raked his gaze down Shiro’s chest and abdomen, taking in the shiny trail of liquid with deliberate hunger.

And then, almost as if in slow motion, Keith bent over with a surprising grace.  Before Shiro could process that yes,  _ this was happening _ , his lips slid around Shiro’s right nipple.

He began to suck, and relief flooded through Shiro as the milk flooded into Keith’s mouth.  He had settled between Shiro’s legs, and Shiro had no doubt that he hadn’t missed how hard and desperate Shiro’s cock was, but he had obviously decided that could wait until later.

And then Keith moaned, a hungry, possessive sound, sending vibrations rocking through the tender, sensitive skin.

Shiro threw his head back and screamed.

Small hands gripped him roughly, and Shiro’s thighs were being pushed apart, a weight settling between them.  Not too heavy—this was Keith, after all—but a blessed, firm presence.

Shiro was used to shoving down these cravings of being owned, being used.  Some things he just had to give up, if he wanted to get to space.

But with the weight on top of him, the hands slowly mapping out every inch of his body, Shiro couldn’t remember ever needing someone as badly as he needed Keith.

Blessed relief continued to ripple through him as Keith sucked slowly, alternating between his mouth and his fingers as he filled the glass alongside having his own meal.

“You taste amazing,” Keith breathed, in the moments between sucks and licks, and Shiro could only groan.

Distantly, almost giddily, Shiro couldn’t say that he was surprised: the happier a Bovid was, the better their milk tasted.  And right now, Shiro was completely lost in bliss.

But Shiro couldn’t produce milk non-stop and, though it took some time, Keith wrung him dry of every last drop.  The relief it left in its wake had Shiro breathless—nearly the greatest thing he had ever experience. It would have been, if it hadn’t been for the aching erection between his legs.

Still, though, even as Shiro’s body refused to produce any further milk, Keith continued to tug on Shiro’s nipples, and a faint confusion drifted through him.  Keith had finished what he’d needed to do, right? So why was he still here?

But the confusion drifted in and out of Shiro’s mind; he couldn’t force himself to focus too hard on it, not with Keith still pinching and squeezing.  It hurt, but in the best way, and Shiro looked up at Keith again, hoping that his bewilderment was clear on his face.

The fierce intensity in Keith’s expression sent a bone-deep electrical jolt through Shiro.  So damn possessive, and, Shiro realized as a roaring noise filled his ears, exactly what he needed.

The orgasm took him by complete surprise, a crest of pleasure rushing through him as he yelped and arched into the sensations on his chest.  Nothing he’d ever experienced had been this intense; he never could have imagined coming so hard.

Keith finally released Shiro’s nipples, reaching out to cradle Shiro’s head in his hands.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmured soothingly, petting his chest after a few moments, then moving to his stomach, then moving to his ears.  The only thing better than being milked dry and then orgasming had to be being milked dry, orgasming, and then having your ears scratched. “I’m so proud of you.”

Warmth settled within Shiro, tired elation, and a slow blanket of bliss began to roll over him.

As Keith continued to scratch his ears and murmur to him, with Shiro’s pants stick and tits sore beyond belief…

Shiro was in heaven.

—

When Shiro woke, the space on the bed next to him was empty.

After a brief, intense flare of disappointment, Shiro clamped down on the sensation.  Keith had helped him enough; he couldn’t expect any more.

True, Shiro couldn’t ever remember sleeping this well before, with the two of them pressed together on the bed, Shiro still damp from his shower after being milked dry.  But he had to keep telling himself that he couldn’t keep demanding favors from Keith, especially not ones of such an intimate nature.

So he pushed himself up out of the bed, pulling on a shirt.  Running fingers through his hair, he stepped outside—

And jumped a foot in the air as something clattered in the direction of the mini-kitchen.

“Who’s there!” he barked, darting forward, and as he rounded the corner, Keith whirled, lifting the spatula he was holding into the air in alarm.

“It’s just me, Shiro!  Jeez! Who else would it be?”

Batter had splattered across Keith’s cheeks, though whether during the cooking process or the startled turn, Shiro couldn’t be sure.  He tried to suppress a grin at the adorable sight.

But the grin vanished for real as his nose caught up with his eyes.

“You’re burning them!”  Shiro darted over, snatching the spatula from Keith as he ushered him aside.

The current batch was unsalvageable, but Shiro managed to pour out three perfectly respectable pancakes without incident.  Keith accepted the offered plate, slinking sheepishly to the couch.

“Sorry.  I’ve never made them before.  I followed the instructions on the box, but I’m not used to having a stove…”

“You did fine.”  Shiro smiled warmly as he settled in next to Keith.  “The batter was great! I can teach you how to use the stove later.  The ones in the Garrison dorms are awfully finicky.”

Keith let loose a forlorn sigh, digging in.  “Yeah, but I wanted to make you breakfast.”

Shiro ducked his head into his food as another grin spread across his face.

“Don’t worry.  You’ll get there.”

They ate, making small talk, until both of their plates were empty.  Shiro scooped them both up without prompting, carrying them to the sink.  Keith trailed along behind.

“Hey, Shiro?  We need to talk.”

Shiro froze mid-scrub, forgetting how to breathe for a few moments.  Talk? He momentarily entertained the wild fantasy of Keith confessing his love to Shiro, admitting that his feelings had been tearing him up inside for far too long.  The next moment, of course, shifted to an image of Keith telling him that last night had been too awkward and that their friendship was over.

“What are we gonna do with all this milk?”

Shiro laughed, startled and a little awkward, at the words, glancing back over his shoulder.  “Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll just give what you can’t drink to the Garrison kitchens.”

Keith’s frown deepened.  “Is that sanitary? Since I sort of…”  He didn’t seem to be able to finish the sentence with “had my mouth on your nipples,” for which Shiro was grateful.

“There are sanitization processes for this sort of thing; don’t worry.”  This had to be near the bottom of the list of discussions Shiro ever wanted to have with Keith.

“Oh.  Okay.”  Keith stepped forward to take a clean plate, drying it with a fresh dish towel.  Shiro sighed in relief as Keith made no more mention of it.

Still, he allowed himself to slip back into that fantasy, the one of Keith confessing his feelings to Shiro in the warmth of his dorm room.

Just for a little while.

—

It didn’t help that Keith always,  _ always _ used his mouth when milking Shiro.  Not the entire time, no, but he would sneak in a taste, a tongue, a slight nip if he was feeling frisky, knowing it drove Shiro up the wall.

He couldn’t know what that meant, how it was an intimate gesture used only between lovers, or what it meant that Shiro permitted it.

Or so he thought.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Shiro froze in the middle of tugging off his t-shirt, one horn catching on the collar.

“ _ What? _ ”

Shiro’s muffled shock seemed to have an effect, because Keith didn’t say anything as he finished pulling off the shirt.  When he did, he could see that Keith’s normally solemn expression had shifted to a self-conscious frown.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Keith protested.  “I’m not saying that you have to. But you seem like you’d want to, sometimes.  And the first time we did this…”

Shiro flushed at the memory of nearly two months ago.  He hadn’t had an orgasm that amazing since that night. And he hadn’t had one with Keith since, either.

“Uh.”  Shiro swallowed as Keith stepped forward, placing a hand in the middle of Shiro’s chest.   The touch sent a jolt through the surface of Shiro’s skin, completely unrelated to the dull ache in his pecs, spreading across and through him.

And Keith stood in front of him, a head shorter but with a presence that left Shiro feeling tiny.   His chin lifted, his eyes gleaming, and Shiro wanting to sink to his knees right then and there.

“I just think it might be a good idea,” Keith began, in the tone of someone who had practiced this speech, possibly multiple times.  “That’s the sort of thing you like, right? When I jerked you off. And that’s part of what makes milking enjoyable, too, right?” Keith straightened.  “I won’t let it ruin our friendship. If you’re worried about that.”

Shiro swallowed, head already spinning at the prospect.  They were going to—Keith was going to—

—But Shiro had to say yes, first.

A dull ache in his lungs, and Shiro reminded himself to breathe.  It was shaky and it was hitched, but he took the moment to compose his thoughts.

“Okay,” he finally managed, nodding with more confidence than he felt.

Shiro wasn’t sure what kind of response he’d expected; a moment of hesitation from Keith as well, maybe, with an uncertain confirmation that Shiro had really said yes.   _ Shiro  _ couldn’t believe it, after all.

But Keith’s eyes lit up, and, as if afraid Shiro might change his mind if given enough opportunity to worry about it, he reached down to take Shiro’s hand.

“I brought lube.”

And with those three words, as if they hadn’t overloaded every single synapse in Shiro’s brain and left him absolutely broken at the thought that Keith had prepared for this, had prepared for this with  _ Shiro _ , Keith dragged him in the direction of Shiro’s bedroom.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Keith turned, mouth opening, as if to say something, but Shiro didn’t give him the chance.  Hands working almost automatically, he reached out to grab Keith’s jacket, shucking it off his shoulders before reaching down to grab at the hem of Keith’s plain black shirt.  Keith lifted his arms automatically, and as it slid free of his head and hands, his hair ruffled with the force of the passing cloth—and Shiro unexpectedly found their faces very, very close together.

Those beautiful, dark eyes met Shiro’s own, and for a moment, he couldn’t move, his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.  Time seemed to have frozen, somehow, and Shiro noticed every tiny detail of Keith’s face: the long, soft eyelashes that curled upwards, the thin nose that left Keith’s features looking deceptively delicate, the stubborn chin that Shiro knew said so much about Keith.

For a moment, he thought they were going to…

Keith barely needed to nudge Shiro in order to have him on his back in the bed, and Shiro barely processed the seconds between standing upright and having Keith’s warm weight on top of him, teeth scraping at his jaw, before any semblance of hesitation within him broke down completely.

Shiro let out a keening noise, arching up into Keith; he reached up to wrap his arms around Keith’s neck, yanking him close.  His face turned instinctively as Keith’s teeth moved from his jaw to his neck, and he closed his eyes as he buried his nose into Keith’s soft hair, inhaling the gentle, clean scent.  Longing swept through him, a need that he’d suppressed for far too long, that had grown to nearly unbearable limits finally being fulfilled.

Keith approached this with his own eagerness as slim, strong hands gripped Shiro’s thighs, so much thicker but ever pliant, and lifted them to bracket Keith’s waist.

Shiro didn’t need any further encouragement: he wrapped them around, grinding forward, pleasure jolting through him as Keith’s hard cock met Shiro’s through their clothing.  His mind scrambled to keep up with what was happening, Keith’s electric warmth pressed up against him, claiming him,  _ owning _ him—

Keith’s nails dragged down Shiro’s ribs, and Shiro threw his head back, crying out with desperation.

Shiro’s own hands scrambled at Keith’s back as Keith scrambled at their remaining clothing, stripping them with an almost terrifying efficiency that left no secrets as to how long he’d been wanting to do this.  When Shiro opened his eyes, he found himself imprisoned with the intensity of Keith’s gaze, those purple eyes pinning him to the spot with a hunger that reflected Shiro’s own.

Shiro yanked him back down without hesitation, and they frotted against each other, expanse of skin to expanse of skin, and the sensation of Keith’s thick cock against his abdomen left him shivering with anticipation, a reminder that it would be inside him before much longer.

Keith leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, and for a dizzying moment, Shiro could taste his breath, their noses brushing, and his head spun with how badly he wanted this, wanted Keith, wanted them to…

_ Oh _ , he thought distantly as warmth filled his chest, more than lust but fanning that lust into an even hotter flame.  This might be… something of a problem.

But god, it was a problem that he never wanted to solve.

Keith’s face moved again, releasing Shiro from the spell of immobility, and he took a deep, shaky breath.  “Please,” he managed, feeling his mind growing hazy with need, with pleasure, and he couldn’t imagine how he’d survived so long without this.

As a hot tongue licked a stripe down Shiro’s jaw, Keith’s fingers, slim but expert as always, pressed up between Shiro’s legs, slick and seeking.  Shiro barely had time to wonder when he had had time to lubricate them before they slid up past his cheeks, up against his entrance, teasing gently.

“God,” Shiro panted, writhing underneath Keith’s weight, trying to grind down on the fingers as Keith continued to deny him, teeth and lips slowly working a hickey into the side of Shiro’s neck.  The fingers teased but didn’t enter, thumb brushing up against his cock and balls as they rubbed slowly, drawing a slow and tantalizing promise of pleasure through him.

It was when a soft chuckle vibrated through his neck that Shiro couldn't restrain himself any longer, and he let out another cry, digging his nails into Keith’s back and writhing wildly.

“ _ God! _ ,” he repeated, this time letting it out as a desperate yelp, almost a sob.  “Keith,  _ please! _  I—I need—”

“Tell me,” Keith breathed in reply, the hot air ghosting against Shiro’s ear.  Longing mixed with frustration crackled through Shiro, and it seemed to only make the former that much more potent.  He hadn’t expected to be denied like this, but now that Keith had begun, Shiro didn’t know if he hated or loved it.

Both, probably, if his body’s response was any indication.

“ _ Please! _ ” Shiro choked out, one of the few words his mind seemed capable of producing at the moment.  Keith’s presence overwhelmed him, enveloped him, the smell of precome and lube and hints of sweat drawing him in.

He couldn’t imagine how it would be once they finally—

“Please what?”  Keith’s voice in his ear had a ragged edge to it, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Shiro realized that he wasn’t the only one who wanted this so desperately that it was driving him mad.

"Please  _ give it to me _ ," Shiro groaned, grinding down demandingly into the fingers, not able to concern himself in the slightest with how this might look.  He had left embarrassment far behind, instead only able to think of pleasure, of Keith spreading him open and taking him, claiming what Shiro had never given to anyone else and using him relentlessly.

Keith's fingers thrust into Shiro without any more warning, and Shiro let out a strangled cry at the sensation of finally,  _ finally _ being filled.  Two: more than he had expected but fewer than he needed.  And with the way Keith curled them sinfully, deliberately coaxing at his prostate, pleasure rocked slowly through him, curling up from between his legs into his abdomen.  He keened, grinding down yet again into the slick sensation of Keith's fingers. He was finally,  _ finally _ getting what he needed.

A third finger soon joined, and Shiro shivered at what this meant: Keith didn't intend on taking his time, working Shiro open.  He'd been waiting long enough, and he wouldn't wait any longer.

"Keith," Shiro whimpered, tightening deliberately around him.  It sent a slight ache through him, but in such a satisfying way that Shiro groaned, cock straining forward as it begged for more contact from Keith's hand.  Keith began a slow, deliberate tempo, fucking Shiro with his fingers, the panting of his chest belying how much he enjoyed seeing Shiro like this.

And then they pulled out, leaving Shiro bereft, and in the few moments it took Keith to hoist Shiro’s legs up, Shiro thought he might die of impatience.

Keith gently held Shiro’s thighs, pushing them up to give himself a better angle, and pressed forward, pushing inside.

Shiro moaned at the sensation of finally having Keith fill him, of the thick cock stretching him open, everything heightened with the pounding of his heart.  Keith’s presence filled his nose, his lungs, and fingers dug into the muscle of his thighs.

Keith groaned, and Shiro managed to force his eyes open, taking in the sight of their faces, impossibly close.  Keith’s eyes were closed as well, mouth half-open as he panted with effort. Shiro found himself lost in the sight yet again, as overwhelmed as Keith looked, struck with the sensation of Keith atop him, his weight pressing him into the mattress, claiming him.   _ Owning  _ him.  Keith began to thrust, rolling his hips, taking everything that Shiro had to offer, and Shiro gave it willingly.

Keith’s head ducked forward, mouth wrapping around Shiro’s nipple, and in the brief moments of stillness, the ache of anticipation swept through Shiro’s chest again…

And then Keith began to suck, the same as he always did, but this time, it meant so much more.

“Keith,” Shiro managed to cry out, pleasure rocking through him as Keith moved within him, pressing up against his prostate with each thrust in a clearly practiced motion.  It filled him in a way that he never could have imagined, even when he had done this with his own fingers, or even toys. And with it all, the milk flowed from Shiro, first from one nipple, then another, as Keith tended to every single need Shiro’s body might have.  And within between it all, Shiro could only shake. Because this was  _ Keith _ ; this was his best friend, the man he loved, the person he wanted…

“What is it?”

As Shiro’s eyes flicked back up to Keith, he could see that Keith was now watching him, gaze hazy but full of desire.

“Talk to me, Shiro,” Keith groaned, teeth sinking into his lower lip for a moment as he seemed to try to steady himself.  Watching Shiro come apart only seemed to make him want to handle him with a firmer hand. “Tell me what you want.”

Shiro shuddered beneath the gaze, crooning softly, and Keith kept up his relentless pace.  Shiro could feel his toes curling in time with each thrust, driving his need deeper.

“I want—” Shiro choked out, the words finding their way to his lips of their own accord.  “I want to… I want you to breed me, Keith.”

Keith’s hips stuttered at the words, and for a brief, sickening moment, Shiro thought he had ruined all of this, disgusted Keith or alarmed him or simply reminded him that Shiro was… well, not quite human.  He tensed, ready for him to pull out—

“ _ Fuck _ , Shiro!” Keith groaned, in a noise of such desperation that it left Shiro wild with need.  He arched his hips upwards, and Keith met his movement in turn. They moved together in a feverish, rolling pace, Shiro digging his fingers into Keith’s hair, Keith curling his fingers around Shiro’s thighs

“Gonna do it,” Keith panted, voice hoarse with effort.  “God, Shiro, I’m gonna pin you down and fill you up—can’t wait to see you, all big and pregnant, knowing that you’ve got something of  _ me _ inside of you, growing—”

Shiro’s sob rang out in the room at the image, the  _ promise _ , and they pushed harder, deeper, chasing the promise of ecstasy with each ragged breath—

When it crested within him, the world seemed to go white around Shiro, disappearing in a burst of sensation that left nothing left in the universe except the two of them, tangled together, rapture swelling within them both as they lost themselves in each other.

Though the bliss took some time to settle, it did have to dissipate eventually.  Shiro whined softly as he came down, not wanting to return to reality. Burying his face in Keith’s neck, he wrapped around him demandingly.

“It’s okay,” Keith murmured, though his own voice sounded ragged and almost uncertain.  “You’re okay. God, Shiro. You’re… you were beautiful.”

Shiro realized that he was trembling, and he took a few more deep breaths, comforting himself with the familiar smell of Keith.  His muscles gradually loosened, and the two of them, just as they had moved together, gradually relaxed together.

Eventually, Keith extricated himself, leaving Shiro feeling oddly empty.  Still, as Keith rolled off, he turned to Shiro, and Shiro pressed against him, their bodies fitting together with a continuing perfection.

“Was good,” Shiro mumbled, eyes drifting closed as the post-orgasm bliss overtook him.  He hoped they could do this again—tonight, even—but not now. Now, all he wanted to do was revel in being sated.

“Yeah,” came Keith's raspy voice, leaving Shiro shuddering despite himself.  “So were you. Amazing, in fact.”

Shiro laughed self-consciously, hiding his face in Keith's shoulder once again.  How could a few small words leave him with such elation?

They remained in silence for some time longer before Keith finally broke it again.

“Can… can you really get pregnant?”

Shiro's face immediately flushed again, the memory sinking into him with a combination of embarrassment and longing.

“Technically,” he began carefully, “I can, yes. But I've been on birth control for years.  Just… in case something happened.” Like ending up on his back in his best friend's bed.

Keith let out a wry chuckle.  “Well, something definitely happened.”

Shiro's own laugh was startled, and when he glanced up, Keith's lips had curled up slightly.

“Yeah,” Shiro hummed, pressing closer into Keith.  “I guess it did.”

—

This time, when he woke, Keith was still asleep next to him.

The sight of his sleeping face, soft and vulnerable, hair falling in wispy strands around his forehead, left Shiro’s chest tightening with fondness.  With  _ longing. _

It was getting harder to tell himself that this was only Keith being a good friend.  Yes, they had spent the night together now, had been so intimate—and so many times—but Keith’s proposition had been so matter-of-fact, so impersonal, that surely it couldn’t mean…

Shiro exhaled, pushing himself up quietly, doing his best not to wake Keith.  He understood, now, the urge to leave afterwards, to avoid the awkward conversations—or awkward lack thereof.

Unfortunately, this was his room.

He turned, placing his feet on the ground—

“Mornin’, Shiro.”

Shiro immediately turned at the raspy voice behind him, and the breath left his lungs at Keith’s visage, blinking sleepily, adorable and sweet.

“Hi,” he croaked, surprised at how hoarse his own voice sounded.  But then again, he had been… very vocal last night, so perhaps he shouldn’t be.

Keith sat up as well, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.  Shiro resisted the impulse to pull him in and kiss him, but couldn’t stop his eyes lingering across the ridges of his collarbone, the muscles in his arms…

“Any plans for today?” Keith asked through another yawn, and Shiro’s attention returned to his face.

“Today?  No, probably not.”  He’d finished all of his work yesterday afternoon in anticipation for last night; though it had gone  _ much _ further than expected, it left his Saturday free.

“Cool.”  Keith cracked his neck.  “Do you want to get coffee?”

Shiro’s brain screeched to a halt.

“Coffee?” he repeated; forming new words seemed to be impossible for him right now, but he couldn’t be silent, not after that.

But… did Keith mean what Shiro thought he meant?  Or was this just wishful thinking? He had to keep telling himself not to get too excited.

But it was hard.

Keith cleared his throat, glancing away, and—was that a flush on his cheeks?

“Yeah.”  He shrugged, clearly trying to keep it casual, but the nervous flick of his eyes over in Shiro’s direction belied the composure he was trying to project.  “Just… you and me. No pressure, spend some time…”

“Yeah?” Shiro asked, unable to keep the hope from his voice.  “Like, as…”

Silence stretched between them, and Keith finally watched Shiro again.  “As what?”

So it was going to be on Shiro, then.  He cleared his throat, steeling himself.  No issue with begging Keith to breed him, apparently, but asking if a coffee date was a Date was ten times harder.

“As… a more than friends way,” he finally managed, feeling his own cheeks flame red.  “As a date.”

A heartbeat.  Then two. Then—

“Well, duh.”

Shiro’s cheeks flushed even deeper.  Duh? As easy as  _ that? _  How did you even respond to that?

“Were you expecting something different?” Keith asked, sounding genuinely flummoxed.  “After everything we’ve done, you’re surprised that I want to date you?”

“I…” Shiro croaked.  It did seem obvious, didn’t it?  But with so much doubt that had been swimming through his mind for so long…

“So, just to be sure,” Shiro said slowly, “you’re saying that you like me?  Like… in a romantic way?”

Keith continued to stare, now downright bewildered.

“Shiro, we’ve had sex.  I’m pretty sure we passed the ‘I like you’ phase a while ago.”

With a groan of humiliation, Shiro buried his face in his hands.  “I didn’t know! You might have… just been doing it as a friend. Because you knew that I needed it.”

Keith snorted.  “Well, I mean, yeah, I figured that you did, but you let  _ me _ be the one to do it, right?”

Groaning again, Shiro flopped back down onto the bed, this time on his side.  He watched Keith mournfully.

“How long have you known?”

Keith’s lips twitched.  “It sort of clicked when you told me yes, last night.  Before, I thought it was just something you… yeah, just needed.”  He laid back down as well, eyes roving over Shiro’s face, and he reached out his arm to hook it around Shiro’s waist.  Encouraged, Shiro shifted closer. “You still haven’t answered me, by the way.”

Shiro exhaled, elation leaping in his chest.  “I would love to.”

Keith’s face transformed when he grinned like that, and Shiro’s lips twisted in a wry smile.  It had always been Keith who started these things, hadn’t it? Asking to take care of Shiro, asking to have sex, asking him out on a date.  But now, it would be Shiro’s turn.

Reaching out, he cupped Keith’s face, leaning in, watching as Keith’s eyes went wide.  But Keith didn’t pull away.

And so Shiro pulled him close, pressing their lips together, moaning softly against Keith’s mouth.  Keith had tasted so much of Shiro; now, it was Shiro’s turn.

And as their tongues tangled together, Shiro reveling in the sweet, wonderful taste of Keith…

It had absolutely been worth the wait.


End file.
